


The Quibble

by TheHungriest



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Comedy, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Pure Souls, Reader Is Not Frisk, Romance, Selectively Mute Frisk, There is actual plot, comments and kudos give me determination, gonna be a long fanfic, lost souls - Freeform, probably a slow burn, soul plot, theres alot of soul stuff, we'll see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-21 22:56:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8263457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHungriest/pseuds/TheHungriest
Summary: This is the New Ebott— mad with monster politics, racist human cootie queens who don't want to share their land or women,and a particular skeleton you can't help but prank when they fall asleep.You're not ashamed to say that your co-worker friend being hospitalized is one of the best things that have happened to you in a long time.The love story that might happen if you date Sans.





	1. When People Are Racist

These last couple of months have been absolutely absurd in both the best and worst possible ways. You intentionally got yourself fired from your job, which your uncle promptly encouraged and _even assisted with_ — you proceeded to get a new job, said job got targeted by anti-monster cootie queens, and now you're here to visit your coworker at the hospital.

  
Oh, and the barrier fell. Monsters and magic are kind of a thing now.

  
_That was so cool._

  
When you learned that your old boss was one of the anti-monster party poopers, you were absolutely sure to 'fire yourself' in a heart beat. You call it ' _quitting in style'_ , though! It started with random things to make your coworkers uncomfortable in silly ways— you gave the receptionist a thorough shoulder rub at the peak of business hours, casually greeting customers and anyone else who came to the desk. You weren't allowed in the lobby during business hours for very long after that.

  
You then insisted on 'accidentally taking up your bosses parking space' every day until you were assigned your very own space on the farthest end of the lot. Flattering.

  
A week later, you intentionally slipped into the elevator with your boss and feverishly jammed every single button in the elevator with giddy laughter. You were getting a death stare for what seemed like the next ten minutes as the elevator slowly went up and down accordingly to the spammed order you'd pressed them in, but other than a scolding, you unfortunately didn't get fired. You got very familiar with the stairs after you were told 'no more elevator for you'.

  
That following day, you vowed that for one week you will not do any work of any kind. Just sit at your desk, let the phone ring, ignore e-mails and when someone asks you to do something, said, “That’s no longer my responsibility. Ask Alice!” —You lasted three days, astonishingly enough, before you were confronted for your alleged 'slacking off', but you weren't fired. Just warned. You wondered how many buttons your boss had that you could press, because apparently, this wasn't enough. You would be flattered even more if you weren't too busy trying to get fired. Quitting just seemed too easy.

  
You even proceeded to give all your co-workers “grades” and put their “report cards” on their chairs every day. You graded them on how attractive you thought they were, how they dressed, and how much you liked them. You were honest. Jeff didn't take kindly to your words. ('Jeff smells like putrid cantaloupe and soiled socks, but he has a nice sense of humor' you wrote). Besides complaining, you weren't fired. This place must be absolutely attached to you, you decide. But it didn't stop you in the slightest.

  
When your boss was out for lunch, you had snuck into his office and glued his expensive rolly chair to the ground after taking a spin with it around his room— you even preformed surgery on the cushion and inserted a very well-rounded whoopee cushion right under the plush cotton. They didn't need proof to know it was you. They made you stay after hours just to clean up the glue, remove the chair and promptly remove the whoopee cushion. That was all.

  
Then, you demanded a raise “ _or else_.”. Your boss laughed. You lost fifty bucks out of your paycheck that week.

  
Bewilderment was strong. You were flabbergasted. What made him want to keep you around after all the hell you put him and his employees in? Well, no need to fear! When someone was having one of those silly company birthday parties at the office, you wriggled your way in front of everyone else in the cake line, grabbed the cake, and ran out the door. This was first regarded as a bizarre prank, so you made people know you meant business by eating the cake as you ran. It got a good laugh, but Betty was upset that she didn't get any cake, and that 'it was the only reason she attended the party'.

  
You also got fired.

  
Your coworkers even _applauded_ your efforts! Nobody quite disliked you at your job, but you didn't have many close friends. When you left, you made a dramatic speech standing on a table in the cafeteria, thanking your family and friends for the opportunity and that they will all be missed. After fake tears and exasperated hugs goodbye(even though you'd see them pretty much every day anyways), you were on your way!

  
You liked to have innocent fun, and people appreciated that about you. You always brought a jovial tranquility. It was your pride.

  
Naturally, you'd planned beforehand and managed to get a lovely job at a quaint pet store closer to home. A month in, however, the store got vandalized by some other monster racists and a few employees got their share of a beating when they got involved. The animals and all were okay though, so it was totally worth it! You didn't mind having to strut around the city of Ebott in crutches for a little while, and now you have just a small limp. People are astonished by how quickly you managed to recover— but you only responded with a coy wink and lazy shrug of your shoulders. You always healed pretty fast!

  
But— you were luckier than some others. One of the few monsters that landed a job at the pet store got a focus of a lot of the beating. He was far too intent on keeping the cats and dogs safe to even remotely consider his own safety, the poor guy. You hadn't seen him since then - it's been maybe a week and the shop was finally rehabilitated enough with the help of you and a few extra hands, but from what you heard, he'd broken some bones and was admitted to the only monster-friendly hospital in Ebott City.

Here.

  
Today, that's where you find yourself after some absent wandering on your generous day off, a thanks from your boss for helping restore the shop. Right in front of Herald Hope. Hospitals always made your stomach lurch, but this time, you were a little preoccupied with squeezing through the busy doors and making way to the receptionist, offering a beaming smile as you waddle on up. Your weight was somewhat jostled and unbalanced due to the gift bag you kept in your left hand full of things for the precious, precious co-worker— you weren't gonna show up empty handed, now were you?

  
Herald Hope was just any ordinary hospital, and its staffers kept it in pristine condition after any vandalism attempts for supporting monsters. You can't even see traces of damage that have scarred the building at all! The rooms buzzed with quiet conversation in respect for any nearby patients resting in rooms, a subtle beep from an arriving elevator that piqued every so often, and occasional names being called as doctors and nurses filtered people in with less severe injuries. It smelled clean and musty, like a new book— just like any other ordinary hospitals and offices.

  
The receptionist was an elder woman dressed in a white long-sleeve button down shirt, the collar neatly tucked and folded that hid the chain of a diamond necklace, and a red vest with a matching smooth skirt that tapered off at her ankles. Her short platinum blonde hair, which you're sure is partially because of her graying, is curled and bobbed perfectly to fit her kind, wrinkled face. She's absently typing up on the computer and occasionally writing something down but it doesn't take long for her to notice you once you situate yourself in front of her. The lady—promptly named Elizabeth, according to her name tag—politely drops what she was doing and addressing you with a warm smile and a curt nod.

  
"I'm here to see _Skeletor_." The comical wit in your voice is almost casual and sing-songy as you flash a lingering smile, and the woman almost immediately understands who you meant. It was supposed to be a joke, 'skeletor', but you suppose there aren't alot of skeletons around, huh? He's the only one you've seen!

  
"Oh my, they've been getting lots of visitors lately!" She exasperates with a huff of laughter at your attempted joke while feverishly shuffling through some papers, trembling fingertips from her old age, but even you could decipher her chalk white paleness and struck nerves. You've always considered yourself good at reading people. Was she was over-working herself? This hospital _has_ had a lot of buzz lately, many patients filtering in and out due to victims of riots and assaults. Ebott was in a state of emergency with the conflict between species, but honestly, its just 'cause humans are pretty darn racist sometimes.

  
This was just the new Ebott.

  
When she nods at a paper, she speaks up again, "They are on 4C. Just ring the room when you go up!" Her voice thin and wispy, frail. "Sign here." In her extended hand, there is a paper with several names written down, along with the time of what you assume to be their visiting hours. You don't hesitate long before scribbling down your own name in bubbly letters with a pen she offers, adding another to the swelling list.

  
As you write the last letter, an approving hum chirps from your lips. "Great, thanks!" You clap your hands together and gather the bag in your hand into a firmer grip. "Take care of yourself, alright, Elizabeth? _Everyone_ deserves a break!" After another warm grin, your words instantly calm the nice receptionist lady as she gives you a warm smile and you waddle yourself to the nearest elevator.

  
You're glad to relieve people if you had the opportunity. For a millennial, you were pretty darn selfless. It gets you in trouble sometimes.

  
You have to tell yourself not to mash all the buttons to see what happens— you don't believe how tempting it was even in an elevator full of people who will probably guffaw at your childishness. After some awkward wriggling to plop yourself into the remaining room of the elevator, the rest of the ride is pretty uncomfortable. Especially with the gawking classic elevator music and occasional cough or sneeze.

A few bad jokes you couldn't resist and muffled snickering pass the time as people filtered on and off, but once you reach floor C, you nearly miss the opportunity when you had to carefully jostle yourself back to the front and —quite literally— fell out of the elevator and onto the cool tile floors. There's faint chuckling as the door closes shut behind you. You verbally blamed the elevator and modern tech even though nobody else was around.

  
The seventh room isn't far, so skipping your way to the door with the noisy rustle of the plastic bag in your hand doesn't take long. It's quiet up here, you note. Sleek. The halls are long and daunting, neatly arranged with sets of parallel doors made of sleek mahogany. The white tiles glistened under the stretching hospital lights. Each soft step rang off the walls, and the quiet voices of employees carried from a ways down. You can see an occasional nurses station from here, as well as vending machines and staff rooms, but that's not what you're here for.

  
There's a little red button at the side of the door as you shuffle right on up to C7, but you've got a much better idea. It's time for your grand entrance!

  
Knock, knock. Your grin knows no bounds.

  
"COME IN!!" A voice calls back, but its muffled by the material of the door. You huff. That wasn't what you wanted.

  
Instead of entering like they'd asked, you knock again, this time more pointedly.

  
Knock. Knock.

  
The dramatic sigh behind the door was hard to miss and horribly exaggerated. "I AM NOT ANSWERING YOU. I WILL NOT BE JAPED!!" They roil when they realize your intentions.

You're about to knock again but you hear another quieter chuckle in the room that causes you to pause and listen with your ear pressed to the cool wood, indistinct and muffled. There is another dramatic sigh that tapered off into a groan, but you can hear the smile on their face. "WAIT, NO! WHAT ARE YOU DOI—"

  
"whos there?" The other person must be the one to have spoken up, voice— low, gentle... it rolled suave and gravelly, but drifted off to sound awfully laid-back. It caused you to jump at the sudden near proximity... they must have gotten closer to the door. You've never heard them before, but you release a pleased sound and continue with your joke. They seemed to be a much better audience for your grand schemes anyhow!

  
"Jerry," You grin. Of all monsters you've met, they all seem to have something against that poor guy. He was horribly infamous in their community, you've learned. Never met him yet though.

  
There's a silence.

  
Then snickering.

  
Then a click of the door.

  
...They locked it.

  
A playfully offended scoff leaves your throat, "Hey!" You whine while dramatically, jiggling the knob. It doesn't budge. Why do they allow people to lock hospital doors? The thought drifts in your distracted mind for a beat.

  
"sorry, kid. this room is strictly jerry-proof until further notice." The amusement in their voice is pronounced past a stifled chuckle. For just a moment you're utterly flabbergasted, racing to find a way to climb out of the whole you'd just mistakenly dug for yourself, and thankfully, you remember the bag in your hand.

  
As though they could see you, you enthusiastically throw your hand in the air, the rustle of plastic loud against your ears. "I have puzzles! —and, other stuff? I forgot what's in the bag already," You sheepishly muster, but your confidence doesn't waver. You know how much Papyrus loves puzzles. "I think I brought snacks? Or I ate them on the way here. We'll find out." You grin.

  
The door instantly unlocks before indistinct shuffling. "PUZZLES?! OH BOY!!"

  
Even though it doesn't open, you take that as an invitation and swing it open before they have the opportunity to lock it again to keep imposter Jerry out, flashing fingerguns at nobody in particular and jut out your hips in a striking pose. "Heya! How goes it, Paps?" You bubble merrily, clambering to the bedside of your poor skeletal co-worker, too indulged to notice the second skeleton staring at you from the opposite side with delightful curiosity.

  
"OH, IT IS YOU!" Papyrus wails with surprise, suddenly clearing his throat— which you're sure isn't physically required of him. Unlike most people, it didn't take long for you to adjust to the concept of monsters— you thought it was fascinating! You actually think you prefer them over humans...

"I MEAN, OF COURSE IT IS!! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, RECOGNIZED YOUR VOICE INSTANTLY! I AM DOING MUCH BETTER THANKS TO THE NICE DOCTOR HUMANS," His eyes animately sparkle. "LOOK AT MY CASTS! AREN'T THEY PRETTY?!" He shrugs a shoulder and wriggles a toe to indicate the asserted casts.

An arm cast rests in a sling around his neck, a leg cast keeps his calf bones secure with a few works of bandaging here and there. They're both a light orange, almost peachy colored, with a variety of names and little drawings colored into the fabric. It's a sight for sore eyes, for sure, but you didn't come here to spread pessimism and worries! It was the point of your extra boost of enthusiasm, after all. Papyrus always cheers you right up, and you're gonna do the same for him while he's stuck in this death prison.

  
You're always pretty silly anyhow.

  
After you let your eyes wander over the presented casts, you can't help but pique, "Can I sign it? I'd love to get into this whole _shin_ dig." You wriggle at your pun as you pointedly gesture to his casted leg, proud of the astounding groan that burbles from Papyrus. Even if the wound was still fresh —literally— you figured he could use the lightheartedness, but the snickering at the opposite bedside finally comes to your attention. An exaggerated gasp elicits from your chest when your eyes find the source.

  
He's dressed in a light blue parka that's somewhat tattered from use, a white turtleneck which is lazily adjusted and rumpled, some black basketball shorts and —you didn't see them until he gently kicked his feet up onto the spare space of the hospital bed— pink slippers. If your grin could get any bigger, it just did.

  
It seemed exactly like something you'd try to get comfy in on a lazy day.

  
"Waaait a minute," You drawl, locking gazes with the small lights that intently floated in his sockets. "Are you the pun master I've heard so much about?" Your hands clap together in front of your nose and you give a bow for comical gesture.

Papyrus babbles on all day about a _pun_ derful brother— his stories and complaints about them are the only reason you bother to pester him with the horrible puns that come up throughout the days at work, just to get under his skin, even though he doesn't have any. You eventually learned that he doesn't actually hate the puns. They just remind him of how lazy his brother is.

  
"HE ISNT A MASTER!! HE IS THE WORST!" Papyrus insists enthusiastically, but he's grinning anyways. You take that as a yes— this _is_ the punderful brother. You beam even more, if its possible.

  
"nah," The other skeleton murrs while leaning back in his chair with bony phalanges clasped behind his skull. You like that voice, you admit. "you're right, bro. 'm _just_ sans." He quips in a leisure introduction, closing his eyesockets(wat) and taking a deep breath. Was he going to sleep?!

  
"Well, 'just Sans'," You start after a beat and he arches a brow-bone with an inquisitive hum, but his sockets were still leisurely screwed shut. "I'm ______, I work with Papyrus at the shop. Great guy!" You chirp when you exchange a grin with the bedridden skelly boy(who visibly shines and sparkles in pride at your words), happily pulling a hand to your chest to gesture to yourself. "Nice to meet you!"

  
The gentle 'thunk' of chair legs meeting the floor brings you to attention, one of his hands carefully extended across the bed. You don't hesitate to take it for a shake just when Papyrus is making a motion to protest, letting out a miserable squeak of instant regret as a sharp pain roots through his bones.

  
The poor cinnamon roll.

  
There's a fart that interrupts the jovial tranquility of the hospital room, and as it squeaks out the last remaining toots, you burst into giddy and light-hearted laughter that brightens the skeletons' eyes. Papyrus groans for the third or fourth time in the last five minutes.

  
"Man, you really _are_ the worst!" You agree past your bubbly giggles.

  
That mere statement causes both brothers to shake with mused laughter, but you struggle to insist that Papyrus really shouldn't be moving too much.

  
"NYEH-HEH-HEH-HEH— OW!! NO, STOP IT, LAUGHING HURTS! DON'T MAKE ME LAUGH!!"

  
"I told you! Be careful, you _bone_ head! Now, how'a'bout those casts?"

  
This was gonna be a great time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PP [Punpals] will be put on hold!  
> I'll be focusing on this fanfiction in the time being.  
> I'm very excited for this!!  
> Remember to leave a comment and kudos if you enjoy it so far, it gives me DETERMINATION!! I love you guys<3
> 
> [hang out with me on tumblr](http://thehungriest.tumblr.com/)


	2. When You Have Socks and Smooth Floors

The recovery from the whoopee prank was quick but he had the decency to promptly remove the little toy and give you a proper shake soon after. The feeling of his bones against the flesh of your hand was... strange. It thrummed softly with magic that left a lingering tingle on your nerves, and it was the strangest combination of warm and cool... maybe because of his hands being constantly nestled in his pockets, or maybe not? His body was so contradictory in the most intriguing ways. You've shaken hands and been hugged by Papyrus before, so it didn't come at a complete shock.

  
His bones were denser than his brothers', you could tell. Thick. You had to remind yourself that they weren't _human_ skeletons, and only _monsters that take the shape of skeletons_. Right? The bones of his hand weren't small and frail like the bones in a human hand— instead, it all seemed plated together, much more animate and smooth, not as creepy. It had a weight to it. They were a great deal thicker and resistant than human bones, too.

  
Sans chuckled at you and watched when you had deliberately studied his hand and made no discreet efforts to conceal your observation, but your prodding didn't bother him. It was innocent curiosity, after all! The way your eyes nearly sparkled with fascination was pretty comforting. At least you didn't look at him or his brother like freaks. That made you okay in his books.

  
After some friendly chatter and Papyrus heartily chunking you a purple marker to sign his cast, horribly enthusiastic of your offer, you decide to make an impression he won't forget— your name occupies a huge space on the side of his leg cast in big, bubbly, wispy letters; underlined, emboldened, and you even doodle a little heart. You were intent on remaining as gentle as possible so you didn't disturb his poor bones.

  
Okay, it actually looks a little childish now that you look at it again, but it's totally fine. He seems brutally pleased anyways. Good.

  
You inhale, "Alrighty! So, I've got a few games and puzzles we could do..." The thought rolls off your lips as you rummage through the plastic bag of possessions, grabbing at a couple of boxes and splaying them out on the hospital table tray that loomed shallow above Papyrus' reclined limbs. The contents in them rattled. Papyrus, of course, looks intrigued and utterly fascinated— you doubt he's seen many board games or puzzles that humans enjoy here on the surface. The thought pangs you with sympathy, but you make quick work to jostle that thought right out of the hospital window. Your mind humors you with thoughtful sound effects. Crash, splat!

  
"OH, WOW!!" The loud skelly hollers, unrestricted hand lifting to brush against the presented boxes and skimming over the pictures and words. Sans does so as well, but much more discreetly. You catch his roaming eye lights despite so.

  
"I've got a few more, hold o-"

  
"THIS ONE!! I LIKE HIS MUSTACHE!" Papyrus passionately scoops up one of the boxes in his hand and gestures it in the air in gallant interruption, its cargo shuffling and clattering inside. Oof. You hope nothing was scrambled. Monopoly was always a pain to organize. When you look over to Sans for justification, he shrugs, and you shrug back without concern. Sounded fine to you! Just... a little tedious.

  
It took a little while to properly explain the game to them— that it wasn't really a _puzzle_ game and more about strategy, or hell, even pure luck! Papyrus noticeably drooped at the news, but perked right back up when you explained the budget and money management. He said something about 'this is a great game for Sans because he doesn't know how to spend his money'. That made you laugh, but the comical skeleton wasn't ashamed and only grinned more in return.

  
After a long, drawn out game of the one and only 'Monopoly'; Sans was utterly demolished and Papyrus emerged the victor. You're partially sure that both you and Sans had given some slack to give Paps the definite but discreet advantage in pity of his bedridden state, but at the same time, the tall lug had an ace plan to begin with! He probably would have wrecked you both _without_ going easy on him. It was a surprise how well he played the game for his first try.

  
You and Sans were both fine with admitting that, yes, you have been japed by The Great Papyrus. So long as he appeared to be prideful and elated in his victory. You and Sans exchanged a silent glance, where you're sure that he's thanking you for taking it easy on the poor guy.

  
Later, Sans lifted his hands to make a 'shoo' gesture at the board game when Papyrus managed to take all of the Board Walks halfway into a second round. You agree. "okay, i give up. im taking a nap now." He mumbles with false resentment that causes you to huff with laughter. He resumed his prior lazy position, hands clasped behind that ivory skull with a slight click of bones and his slippers carefully plopped up on the bedside. His eye-sockets(?) close initially, but one peeks back open when his brother roils a complaint about his behavior.

  
Papyrus groans, again, and laments. "COME ON BROTHER!! DON'T BE SO LAZY! WE JUST STARTED!!!" It's been about two and a half hours, mind you. But you encourage him anyways.

  
"Yeah!" you chirp in agreement, scooping up a hotel piece and lobbing it at Sans. With your remarkable skills and flawless aim— well, you remarkably manage to toss it right into the gaping hole of Sans' open socket, where the darkness of his hollow head swallows it up in a heartbeat with the faint clatter that echoes faintly in his skull. You're a hazard. An absolute hazard. This is why you can't have nice things.

  
"huUH—" He squawks at the sensation with eyes flying wide open.

  
Your first instinct is to laugh, but you somehow contain yourself. "Whoops— sorry, I'm sorry!"

  
"YOU DON'T SOUND SORRY!!" Papyrus accuses. He was right.

  
The skeleton visibly tenses and nearly falls back in his chair at the sudden intrusion, Sans' voice floundering and hitches at failed attempts of english while the lights in his eyes surged wide in surprise. You have to purse your lips to avoid snickering at the now-statued Sans, skeletal hands untwined as they hover rigid next to his cheeks in contemplation— boy, his fingers twitched as he prompted himself to just get. It. Out. It was horribly uncomfortable, even if the object was wee small.

  
"DON'T THINK ABOUT IT, BROTHER!! IT ONLY MAKES IT WORSE!" The bedridden skelly tries to help, but he's nearly drowned in muffled laughter as well.

  
Then he did. He tried to get it out. A bony hand gently slithered into one of his gaping sockets, shuddering at the odd feeling and he dug around with hollow clanking and seldom flinching here and there when he touches somewhere that feels extra strange or moves an inch too quick. The look in his eyes were absent and glazed over. When you look over to Papyrus, he too is awfully amused; but he shares a sympathetic grimace. He can probably relate to his situation at times.

  
You, on the other hand, are just utterly fascinated and humored at the way he just... shoved a hand into his face. You hope your gawking isn't offensive. "I wish I could do that," You think out loud, but Papyrus insists on shaking his head with great vigor. No, you do not wish you could do that, you gather. How could it be that bad?

  
After a few failed attempts at grabbing the small hotel piece as it skidded and danced around his hollow skull, he eventually gets a successful grasp and tosses it right back to you in a fraction of a heartbeat, desperately getting it as far away as he could— you playfully shielded yourself while it just bounces off of your shoulder and Papyrus continues to scoop it back up to set it with the rest of the hotels. Good. Losing pieces to Monopoly was horribly easy to do.

  
Sans' grin has returned after a few seconds, lazy posture resuming and he barked with amiable laughter. "that was a _puzzling_ situation you had me at there," he murrs, emphasizing his pun when he gestures to your bag. "whats the face for? you gotta thing for me already?"

  
Instead of going flush and coming up with some witty remark, you can only inhale a breath of enticement. You find monsters pretty darn neat, of course, but they're utterly intriguing in a lot of ways. You realize he's waiting for a response, but you blurt to indulge your curiosities instead; "What's it feel like?"

  
"like theres something in my head." He retorts coyly.

  
How helpful. "Oh, I never would have thought!" Your burble with satire, tone exaggeratedly dramatic as you raised your eyebrows at him.

  
He raises his back in mock. "its just uncomfortable. really weird feeling. it doesn't hurt or anything, so you're good."

  
There's a gasp in the bed that genuinely alarms both you and Sans for a split second— you recognize soon after that you've been japed, and that the elicited gasp wasn't actually because of a serious situation. Instead,

  
"WAIT, BROTHER!! YOU HAVEN'T FED YOUR PET ROCK IN DAYS, HAVE YOU?! NEGLECT!!" The cripple skeleton accuses while gesturing a careful finger at the comedian, his face taken over my an evident concern for 'pet rock' and false resentment for his brothers' 'negligence'. Sans put a hand to his chest in false offense.

  
"his name is _rocky_." Sans pointedly corrects. "second of all, i am the best dad he's ever had."

  
"YOU'RE THE _ONLY_ DAD HE'S EVER HAD!!"

  
"exactly."

  
The cat catches Papyrus' tongue— he's not quite sure what to retort with. You, on the other hand, want to know why Sans has a pet rock named 'Rocky', and why it needs to be fed. Is it a normal rock, a monster rock? You never though you'd have to question that in your life. Does the rock actually need be cared for? You suddenly want a pet rock. You kill goldfish in your care, but how about a rock? That seems like one thing you could possibly handle.

  
You're a hazard, though. Maybe you _could_ kill a rock.

  
"GO FEED IT!" Papyrus alas blurts, shooting an arm to point in a random direction, probably 'home'. Sans exchanges a glance at you, but you're entirely indulged on coming up with clever names for your own rock all to even notice. He says something to his brother and blips out of existence, but you somehow manage to miss both of those. It's when you come to terms with the odd silence that you're finally lured from your very important dilemma, noticing the empty seat, and eyes wandering the room before you quirk a brow at Papyrus. 'wat happen', your expression screams.

  
"HE WENT TO FEED HIS ROCK. HE'LL BE BACK SOON!" The bedridden monster justifies, you give a thoughtful nod. Yes. Very important business indeed. You can't help but notice the slightly puzzled expression in Papyrus' malleable face, like he wanted to ask a question but wasn't quite sure how to approach it, but he speaks up before you can manage to inquire about your suspicions.

  
His tone was sweeter, concerned, but still just as intense. "HUMAN, ARE THE ANIMALS ALRIGHT?"

  
He must be talking about the ones at the shop. Your heart twists in sympathy—again—but when the skeleton is eagerly awaiting resolve, you throw it out the window for the second time and flash a big smile of genuine appreciation. "They're all great, thanks to you!" He visibly relaxes with a breath of relief. "We just finished restoring the shop yesterday, it's why I decided to come visit! The bossarooni gave a day off to people who helped out in the restoration."

  
"GOOD!!" He nods his skull. "I'M EXCITED TO GET BACK TO WORK! I HOPE IT DOESN'T HAPPEN AGAIN, BECAUSE I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WOULDN'T WANT THE FURRY THINGS GETTING SCARED LIKE THAT A SECOND TIME! NYEH-HEH-HEH!"

  
The sheer fact that the tall skeleton was more so concerned about the mental health and condition of the animals at the store rather than his own well-being at the time made your heart wrench. He was a very admirable monster, you had that much to admit! The assailants had tried to smash the fish tanks and unlock cages, but Papyrus managed to hold every single one of them off with the help of a few ballsy employees— you included, until the police could arrive. He was careful not to cause genuine injury to the thugs.

  
After all, the law probably wouldn't have been gentle on him. He may have been protecting property that anyone else had the right to do, but being a monster came with its unfair downs, one of them being the neglect in court. Humans are almost always favored no matter the situation. He made it a point to stay strictly defensive; its why he ended up with a lot of the beating. What kind of anti-monster supporter would pass up the opportunity to rip a monster, who isnt fighting back, a new one? Very few.

  
When you audibly sigh to yourself, you give Papyrus a gentle pat to his femur. He's still covered by hospital blankets. It was a comforting gesture that the monster lavished in, appreciated— but his face contorts into another of perplexity and confusion.

  
"YOU'RE A NICE HUMAN, HUMAN. WHY ARE OTHER HUMANS SO MEAN SOMETIMES?!" You can't help but smile some more, but he's looking between you and his lap. He looks kind of sad.

  
"Thanks, Paps," You softly retort with genuine sincerity. But... how do you answer the rest of his question? Why are humans mean sometimes? You hum in thought. You didn't really want to shame your own species and give him the wrong idea that they're all mean or something, or make him feel like he's not supposed to be here on the surface—

  
"we're just new to 'em, bro, they probably don't know how to react. they'll ease up eventually." Sans' voice rumbled from your right. Where'd he come from? How long had he been there? He's standing at the far-end of the room and leisurely strolling back to his chair with a slight 'plop', so you throw him a thankful expression for digging you out of that situation. He discreetly winks in return.

  
But your eyes light up when you remember a specific errand that'd been asked of you.

  
You start beaming again.

  
"The boss also wanted me to give you these as a thank-you!" You pull out a small plastic container of small cakes from the top of your bag and jest them to the injured skeleton, who eyes them inquisitively. You take it that he's never had one before, which makes you even happier. This would be his first taste!

  
"WHAT ARE THESE? ARE THEY SPAGHETTI FLAVORED?!"

  
You can't contain your snicker. "Macaroons! They definitely are _not_ spaghetti flavored— but I bet there are some out there somewhere..." They come in tons of flavors, after all. You mentally note to look it up later. Papyrus would die for those.

  
Before he can even have a taste, the hospital door sounds with a gentle knock, and a nurse emerges after Papyrus voiced his invitation. She's donned in a light blue nursing dress uniform; a collar tapers around her neck and it buttons all the way down, stopping just above her knees. It looks more like a lab coat, honestly? Her ID badge reads 'Sammy', hands clutching a clipboard and a small container to her small chest, a small nursing cap nestled in the short brown hair of her head. She nods at Sans, then to you. You're not actually sure if she's greeting you or not.

  
"HELLO, HUMAN!" Papyrus waves his unrestricted hand as the nurse smiles.

  
You look over soon enough to see Sans furrowing his brow in a very discreet glare at the wee nurse, a brief sigh leaving his chest while he gathers himself back to his feet to skirt around the bed. He brushes a bony hand across your shoulder for your attention on his way around. Did she want you guys to leave? Sans' is resting his back against the open door to keep it propped open, now, eyelights studying you as he tilts his head to the hall. You take that as a yes!

  
All you can really do is set the container of macaroons on the hospital table, voicing your temporary goodbye to the poor skeleton and a greeting to the nurse before slipping out of the room, Sans hot on your heels after he spares an additional moment to observe his brother and the nurse. He didn't seem willing to leave him unsupervised with the human, but he does anyway. You suppose he didn't have much of a choice.

  
When his weight leaves the door to shut it and he joins you in the hall, you tilt your head. "What was that?"

  
To your surprise, you and Sans' measure up to be around the same height, you note to yourself. You hadn't stood side by side until now.

  
"she's giving him fresh magic for his bones." There's a brief pause. "im sure its a real _bone_ -afied experience," The skeleton humorously jests.

  
You chortle at his implied pun, but his response gives you a moment to think about something that came to mind a long time ago— "Couldn't you guys just eat your magic food and be ready to go? I didn't think any of you would actually need to be hospitalized... til now," You sheepishly admit.

  
"uh, usually, yeah." You give him a look of dissatisfaction, so he elaborates. "its physical stuff that actually takes time to heal. bones being damaged by magic and bones being physically snapped in half or something are two different things." Well, that made sense, you guess? This magic mumbo jumbo was perplexing to you. His eyes had dimmed at some point, more of a smokey, grey, wispy accent now. "she won't let anyone in there while she does it."

  
You can sense the irk in his voice and his expression, even if he's still got that grin spread wide across his cheeks. When Sans starts to walk a ways down the hall, you deliberately follow. You notice he doesn't ever stray far from the room— probably in case of an emergency with Paps. It looks like he's headed towards one of the nearest vending machines.

  
"She's just trying to help him, don't worry!" You nudge his shoulder with intent, causing him to waver an inch or two to the right as he gave a huff of laughter. His eyes lit back up. "It's normal for hospitals to ask visitors to give nurses privacy when they do their thing. Keeps accidents and distractions to a minimum." Thankfully, your words seem to relax the skeleton.

  
"yeah, i know. just doesn't sit right with me after what happened. —uh, no offense." He glances in your direction. You shake your hands out in front of you in tame surrender.

  
"None taken! Humans are pricks." You state matter-of-factly and nod approvingly to yourself. You have no problem admitting that to him. They were. Sans snickers, nodding along. "Okay, million dollar question, though." You start, the eyelights in Sans' sockets giving you a sidelong glance. A quiet hum left his chest, but it sounds more like a gentle rumble with the sheer ample bellow of his default tone.

  
"Was it worth it?" The question seems to catch him off guard when he makes an inquisitive grunt. You realize he didn't quite catch what you meant. You weren't very straight forward that time, you admit.

  
"Oh! I mean, the humans— was it worth leaving the underground to be treated like this?" Your brows were furrowed and a sympathetic smile etched its way onto your lips— for once. "I'm not sure if you guys expected it or not... I don't know a ton of monsters, honestly."

  
Your question indulged Sans into a thoughtful silence, and for a moment, you were worried that you'd said something wrong. He replies just in time before you can take it back.

  
"when you haven't seen the sun or breathed fresh air your whole life and finally get a taste of it, there's almost nothing that will make you ever want to go back."

  
...

  
When he doesn't hear a response for a few beats, he looks to his side to regard your sudden absence— you were gone? Yeah, well, that thought lasted for maybe a fraction of a second before he sees your figure slip by in a fit of giddy laughter, but you're still pretty quiet as to not disturb the patients. The sudden action caused his approach to the vending machine to falter and stare at you bewilderingly.

  
You had removed your shoes and glided across the smooth tiles with your socks, which were mismatched horribly with little cartoony kittens on one and psychedelic patterns on the other. Your arms were flailing to maintain your balance and shoes were thrown somewhere down the immediate hall.

  
You were something else. An energetic little thing, for sure.

  
"Why didn't I think of this earlier!?" You whisper-yelled as you surfed by again, his eyelights following your path. He's grinning idiotically, but so were you. "It's so obvious!"

  
"No running through the hall!"

  
The voice caused you to fall melodramatically, and Sans is hysterical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE MORE INTERESTING I PROMISE  
> remember to leave a comment and a kudos if you're enjoying! im open for suggestions for future chapters! <33
> 
>  
> 
> [hang out with me on tumblr](http://thehungriest.tumblr.com/)


	3. When There Is A Breakup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a big introduction chapter for an important character!

A solid week has flown by since your visit to the hospital to see the Great Papyrus, and after that, you stopped by a few more times by his dire request. He enjoyed your company, you sure couldn't complain about that! If your excitable demeanor cheers him up, you're more than happy to grace him with your presence.

There was a time you'd walked in on them during later visiting hours to see Sans fast asleep, arms folded under his head as he rested against the hospital sheets, seemingly passed out after keeping a watchful eye on Papyrus. You don't think the skeleton brother ever really left the hospital for longer than a few minutes at a time in spite of something happening to his brother while he was gone. You thought it was sweet! You didn't even have the heart to stir either of them awake, so you just dropped your little gift and went on your merry way.

You always brought more puzzles and board games, always ecstatic to introduce them to a variety of new things. They both seem to have taken a liking to 'Clue', but honestly, Sans likes the nap game better. After the first, any time a Nurse had to come in and tend to Paps, you and Sans made it a regular thing to roam around the hospital to pass the time. You got scolded for "sliding" a lot.

No regrets.

With each visit, Papyrus was in increasingly good condition— the last you heard, he would be free to go home whenever he feels ready! —Which was immediately, of course. He'd still have casts for another couple weeks but he insists they're not as tender as they were.

You and Sans had exchanged numbers to keep you updated since you couldn't constantly stop by between your job and what not, which you appreciated greatly, and he did a good job of keeping you informed. Between informal texts and casual conversation you finally understood why Papyrus was absolutely bonkers from his puns— but you liked it! Sans was a good brother.

He told you earlier today that Papyrus was back home, and you'd made plans to go visit them soon.

The night is slow in coming, but when it does arrive it seems to linger into eternity. There is a crackling fire in the grate. Every few seconds it pops and the flame sizzle over the wood with a vengeance that Doyle rather enjoys. He’s propped up in bed, watching the last of the afternoon sun sink down into the shroud of early evening; listening to the faint trickle of piano as Bach plays on the nearby stereo; enjoying the way Cassandra is sleeping so soundly beside him, cuddled into a ball and becoming one with the sheets. He drifts his fingers over her fur as he watches her, eyes calm and content. He has never felt more at ease. Strange.

That otherworldly peace is quick to diminish when a certain niece tramples into his door, swinging it open with a prideful clamor. Cassandra was quick to jump from the sheets, claws gritting against the mahogany floors and thrusted herself out the door at unprecedented speeds so extreme that she only visualizes as a blur of white. He just wants to sleep. He also wants his cat to come back and cuddle.

But you have other plans for the miserable lump.

"Alright, tough guy. Time to stop flirting with the feline!" You declare, jutting a thumb back behind your head to gesture out into the dark hall; but you can see the light from the kitchen. You can tell how badly confine he's been in this room because even that faint, distant light causes him to recoil as his eyes spasm to adjust. He was like a castigated vamp.

You were fed up.

"You're not skipping dinner this time. If you keep losing weight like that, even your cat isn't gonna want your attention anymore! Look at you!" A hand gestures to his hunched figure, which isn't even covered up by the burgundy blankets. He's literally in his boxers, and in this dim light, you begin to think that there are little cartoony aliens imprinted on them. "You look dreadful. This isn't good, buddy," You insist. Your tone doesn't carry harshly, but rather with encouragement and concern— with a particular stubbornness that tells him he's in for it deep.

Although you're of legal age to own your own place, you've always hated the idea of living in utter lonesome. Creeped you out. So, you henceforth occupied a house with your uncle.

He's a great guy when he's not swimming in his tears after a break-up.

A pitiful whine escapes Doyles' lips as he makes no effort to move off of his plush mattress. Instead, his body goes limp, and he buries himself into the pillows. He mumbles something that's horribly muffled by the fabric and you don't even bother asking for a repeat. You can hardly discern his figure in the darkness of his room, but the small fireplace in his room casted a dim outline to his movements.

You still don't understand why he has a fireplace in his room to begin with. Isn't that a living room thing? There's one there, too.

Why do you have two fire places? You're a fire hazard.

"Uncle Boy Toy, if you don't get outta bet right now, I will literally call Lisa over. No mercy from the niece." Those words cause him to tense.

Doyle is suddenly intent on getting into the kitchen.

Lisa— hoo, the name causes him to shudder now. You suppose you could understand, the break-up was pretty harsh, but for a grown man he sure was pulling some childish antics. He was utterly pitiful. Dark circles under his eyes, expression constantly glazed over by a distant mix of strange hope and heartbreak, he'd lost too much weight in an unhealthy span of time, and he won't stop complaining about everything. Your food included.

If you didn't know any better, you would say he was acting like a woman. Because he was. But that'd be an insult to yourself. It's been two weeks and his state hasn't changed, and although you're concerned, you're also pretty frustrated when he constantly denies your help.

He can hardly walk in a straight line and he insisted on bringing his blanket with him. He clutched to it like a lifeline, bundled up into a plush cocoon while you led him down the hall with a hand on his back to keep him steady. You're sure he's come down with a cold. He's sniffling, his throat is raspy— maybe he's just been crying a lot? Neither of the options settle well with you.

It was strange offering your support to a man who trumped you in size even with his lost weight. He's always been a heavy built guy, lean and undeniably handsome, but he looks like he's been processed through a blender a few too many times. His dark hair is a mess, green eyes drained of most color and life, and his stubble has gotten a little out of control. He's stinky, too. Man odor.

Believe it or not, you get your energy and wit from him.

Its pitiful seeing him like this all of the sudden. Part of you wants to kick Lisa in the cooch, the other wants to coax her back over to see if that's what he needs, and then a tiny third of you thinks he really just needs a new girl. His relationships always end bad, though, but he never wants to share the story. He should really stay single for awhile.

He insists he's 'too lonely', though.

When you approach the dining room table, you wait for him to settle down before you slide a plate of warm chicken alfredo under his nose, which managed to stir him from his sickly absent gaze. He hasn't said a decipherable word. To your satisfaction, a callous hand reaches from beyond a crevice in the blanket and picks up the fork, poking and prodding at the pasta and slowly eating the bits. The occasional sidelong glance form him tells you that he's only doing it to get you off his back.

You've already eaten— that wasn't the first time you tried getting him out of bed tonight. You're just standing by the counter with a mug of freshly brewed tea in your hand, leaning against the cool granite. You eventually just throw your whole weight on its surface and kick around your legs in a gentle sway. The only sound that filled the home was the buzz of the AC, the clicking of his fork against the plate, and disgruntled sniffles or grunts that'd muse from his direction.

You don't listen to it for much longer.

"You don't wanna talk about it, still?" Your offer is dejected when he weakly growls. A sigh leaves your lips as you indulge yourself into another gulp of tea. How do you give relationship advice to a man who's been through as many _girls_ as you have _donuts_?

"You sure I shouldn't call Lis—"

"I will kill _everyone_ you love." He finally croaks, frowning.

"Even yourself?" You smugly reply. He's family, of course you love him!

You take pride in the pitiful huff of laughter that you get in response, but he tries to act like it doesn't happen when he stuffs another bite into his mouth. He seems to be increasingly more satiated with the food the more he eats. "Touché." He boors, but you catch the short-lived smile that perked at his lips for a moment. Good. Niece treatment is so far so good.

"The boss hasn't fired you yet?" No time like the present to start up some casual conversation now that the vampire has left his lair. There's a brief 'mm-mm' from Doyle as he continues to nibble at his food. "Hm! Surprising! You haven't had a lick of fresh air in the past two weeks. You should at least crack a window if you're gonna coop up back there," You jest. He doesn't respond immediately.

"The big man tried calling me in for a few cases. Said I was out sick." Well, you suppose it was technically true... but to be more blunt, he was 'out cus his girlfriend broke up with him'. You down the last bit of your tea and dismount the counter to get some more. You have the decency to fetch him a glass of water, as well.

"If you want to fire yourself, I'd say we could cook up something good." A snicker leaves your lips but Doyle doesn't seem to drift with your humor. "You should really try going in soon, Doyle! At least to see if they can lend you some case files to go home with? To be their little 'at-home-detective'?" You offer. "At least you'd be doing something. Might be a good distraction, too, yeah?" You look over to him with a satire wink, refilling your mug and fetching him a glass from the cupboard.

He's quiet for a few beats. You hope he's considering the idea— a job like his isn't the easiest to get. He worked his little hiney off trying to get to where he is. He's respected in Ebott among his peers as an exceptional detective, he's got quite a few cases under his belt and you're sure the agency needs him more now than ever with all of the conflict and crime occurring throughout town.

"Monday." He rumbles when you're on your way back over, setting the cup of water on his side of the table while you take the nearest seat. You hum for clarification as you take another sip of tea. "Monday what?" you ask.

"-guess 'll go back in Monday." Doyle grogs in clarification. "No promises, though. 'll sulk in my room if I want 'cus you're not my mom." Though bitter and monotonous, you can sense the humor in his last remark.

You can't hide the smile on your face. "Good. Good! That's good! You need the air." When you notice his plate is empty, you squeak a noise of appreciation and stand to take his dishes, giving him a brief ruffle of his hair. You feel like you're the adult of the house right now tending to a kid— but Doyle is in his mid thirties by now. You're just twenty-two(-Taylor Swift).

"Go take a shower, you smell rancid." With a scrunch of your nose for emphasis, he snickers coarsely and rolls his eyes, but stands to waddle his way to the bathroom anyways. You watch as he closes the door behind him, the blanket momentarily snagged by the corner.

You'll pamper him until he's better. He's all you got.

Setting the dishes in the sink with a soft jangle and a sigh from your lips, you lean against the counter. You really should go visit the skelly boys soon. Maybe you could bring Doyle? He needs the fresh air, you think. You were also partially eager to see what kind of place they lived in. You hoped it was nowhere trashy— landlords tend to do that with monsters. They deserve a good home.

You dig your phone out of the butt pocket in your jeans. You should probably change into something a bit more comfortable for the night, you note.

              -You: Think I can stop by tomorrow? Might bring someone! -

To your surprise, the response doesn't take long. Must not be a very busy night.

              -snas: sure thing pal, paps' been wonderin when u'd be stoppin by -

His lazy grammar caused you to audibly chortle, even if you were aready expecting it. He sends another message with their address, thankfully. You almost forgot to ask.

Look like you've got plans, then!

A shower worked wonders on Doyle. It put life back into his eyes, the prep back into his step. You start to think that it washed away his misery along with his stank right down that drain.

Good. You had no complaints for that.

After a solid night of random internet browsing and a cozy sleep once you'd somehow managed to burn out your energy, you'd popped right out of bed at around nine o'clock in the morning— as well as dragging your still-pretty-dead uncle out of his bed in your wake.

He protested a lot. You threatened him with Lisa again.

Sans and Papyrus actually didn't live too far off— just a few blocks. You always considered as much when you'd catch Papyrus walking home, but you'd never actually seen him arrive at his destination. Doyle wanted to take the car. You wouldn't let him. He needed the air, seriously! You'd somehow managed to coax him into just walking with you after fighting back and forth to get him to leave the house period, but he knows you mean well.

You hoped this was all Doyle would need to get that extra boost.

Familiar faces passed as you and the miserable lug paraded through town— well, _you_ were parading, but Doyle was more or less footslogging and shuffling around at half-hearted degrees. Some exchange brief conversations and waves to the scarce sight of Doyle, but you ended up doing most of the talking. He neglected to do much more than a mumble or a grunt here or there and you got more than a few sidelong glances of concern as people noticed just how utterly tragic the guy was. Most of them, however, knew Doyle enough to discern that it was probably just another break-up.

It happened a lot.

"Alright, stud!" You say, holding yourself with pride in front of the home of the skeleton brothers— at least, you hope it was. It's a relief to see that they'd somehow managed themselves into a nicer home, quaint and homely, one story, but still kept in good condition. Doyle groans at your side.

"..'m not a stud," He argues hoarsely, sniffling. His nose was getting stuffed at the sudden summer air.

"Sure you are!" You don't provide any reasoning to your statement. "That's why you're gonna knock!"

Doyle looks right over to you. You can practically feel the loathing. "....Your kiddin' me." He flatly states.

"Nope!" You pop the 'p' with an absurd grin directed towards the pitiful man. "Day one for your niece therapy; meet someone new. You've got to be the first one to say hello!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Sans pulled his door open after a particularly indignant knock that woke him from his third nap of the day on the couch, the skeleton wasn't exactly sure was to expect— not you, clearly. You always opened up your knocks with a knock-knock joke rather than the hap-hazardous beatings he'd just been rudely awoken by. He considered that maybe you were upset? But that seemed so unlike you— so out of the question. The sheer clamor was enough to make him consider that, just maybe, this person would knock the door of its hinges if they kept knocking like that.

He had to look up to the six-foot-something man, probably around the same height as his brother, albeit more well-built and not as _boney_. Sans has still got that cheek-to-cheek grin on his face and a somewhat jaded stare from his recent slumber. The grouch was gawking at his skeletal figure, visibly surprised, a hand still lifted mid-knock and slack-jawed.

They stared head on at each other like that for awhile.

He probably wasn't expecting _death_ to literally answer the door. Sans looked pretty satisfied with himself.

After several beats of a stiff silence, the man finally lifted a hand and gave a half-hearted wave. Sans waves back. "sup?"

The man didn't respond for what seemed to be the longest time, and instead twisted around to address someone behind him. "You didn't tell me they were skeletons!? You didn't think that'd be remotely important?! I can't believe you?" His voice carried gruff and hoarse with a sense of betrayal. Even Sans could tell he wasn't in the best condition.

But, then the skelly hears a familiar fit of laughter from the sidewalk in front of the house— a laughter that causes his grin to stretch and eyelights to burn brighter. He feels that wave of energy from your soul.

"Absolutely!" You had called back past your giggles.

He smiles even wider and holds out his hand. “the name’s sans. sans the skeleton. didn't know you were here with ____,” The man looks at it and only waits a beat before grasping it in a typical firm grip—

Doyle suddenly hisses between clenched teeth and rips his hand from Sans' as a small burst of electricity jolts him. He holds his hand and grumbles out of shock, staring at him as Sans laughs roughly, tumultuous and deep. Doyle temporarily considers murder.

" _shocked_ to see me?" The skeleton quips, relatively unfazed by the murderous stare. “sorry, couldn’t pass that up. ya' look like you could take it.” He removes the buzzer and holds his hand out again, this time rolling around his wrist so the big guy could see there wasn't anything else there. “let’s try that again. sans.”

"Doyle." He boors, sure to grab the skeletons' hand with much more force than he typically would—for revenge—and had this been some ordinary human, Sans would probably be crippling under the pressure. He just grins, though, which stirs the man. He wanted more of a reaction from that than just a grin. He wanted a grimace, at least.

You laugh even more as you witness the awkward confrontation. Doyle, on the other hand, hasn't been pranked in a while (courtesy of your mercy), and it makes him fight a smile. He's always up for a good joke, no matter where it comes from.

"come on in."

As Doyle carefully enters the home with a cautious eye like he was looking for booby traps, you followed in pursuit and galloped your way back up. "He's a good guy!" You'd skidded to a half just next to Sans, Doyle having wandered out of earshot.

"something botherin' em?" Sans raises a brow bone with a sidelong glance.

"Mmm, break up. They're pretty rough," A sigh left your lips. "He hadn't left his room for two weeks until now! I barely managed to get him out of bed. Thank you for letting me bring him. He could use some more company than a little old niece, I think!"

"hey, least i can do for helping out with my brother. he's been excited to see you again." He wouldn't mention that he kind of was, too. He'd gotten used to your presence after the couple of weeks at the hospital. "wanna go say hi?"

After nodding your head with vigor, Sans led you through the quaint home— the living room occupied most of the space. To the top-right of the living remained remained the kitchen, which was also quite spacious and well-used, and across the room from the front door leads you to a bathroom. There's a bedroom to the right, two more side-by-side to the left, and you believe Sans mentioned a basement? You can't see an entry way from here, however.

Your gaze drifts across an occasional sock scattered across the room with a series of notes attached to them, but you decide to look at them later to indulge your curiosities. Doyle has become one with the couch, literally made himself at home, and began to flick through some channels on the tv.

"its not much," Sans concludes when he settled himself in the kitchen, almost looking sheepish.

"Hey, it's a cute house!" You protest. Sans' grin widens at you.

"thanks."

Before you could even make it through the living room, Papyrus has already started screaming for you.

"HUMAN?!? IS THAT YOU?? I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, KNEW YOU COULDN'T RESIST SPENDING TIME WITH ME!!"

And so you dragged Doyle off of the couch and strut into Papyrus' room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ask me crap on tumblr and stay updated on new chapters](http://thehungriest.tumblr.com/)


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